The Gay Experiment
by mywordshurt
Summary: Never once did she think she could be gay, until she met HER!
1. Pillow

**Introduction:** The setting is probably somewhere in the first few episodes of season one of _Glee_. Removing the pregnancy storyline and instead substituting this gay problem. Despite what this chapter may imply, this story will be more humourous than my earlier stories. Think of it as a black comedy.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own _Glee_ or any of its characters.

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><p>QUINN FABRAY - RACHEL BERRY<p>

**THE GAY EXPERIMENT**

**CHAPTER ONE: ****_Pillow_**

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><p>Stay away from him.<p>

Anyone but her.

You don't belong together.

I sat crying alone in my room. Crying into my pillow. Crying in my Cheerios uniform. Boo-hoo. Popular girl with money crying. Why?

Why should I be happy? What does money mean? Fame, if only in the tiny atmosphere of our school. It's pointless. I'm miserable. I make others miserable. I make everyone miserable.

Her. She's always there. Standing there. Watching _him_. Why do I care? I don't even like him that much. That's the only reason I'd care. If he left me. There's no other reason. She's just there. I have no feelings on anything else in the matter.

He could date _anyone else_ and I wouldn't care. It's not the idea of him leaving me for some loser. Rachel is far from the bottom. She's kind of pretty.

What are you saying?

I can call another girl pretty.

It's . . .

It's nothing.

It's gay.

. . .

. . .

There's nothing wrong with being gay.

Your parents would burn you like a witch. They'd throw you out. They'll never look back.

No.

Yes.

I'm overreacting.

No, I'm not.

Why am I even thinking about this?

Because of Rachel Berry.

I _hate_ her. I bully her. My entire existence is to make her suffer.

Why?

Because she's . . .

Because I like her?

I don't.

You do. I do.

I torture her.

By drawing porn of her. Naked drawings alone in the bathroom.

Haven't you ever just sat there and admired your work?

No.

Yes.

It was very anatomically correct.

You could have made her a bug. Or a gorilla. Or _something_. But instead you took her clothes off.

Shut up.

Why?

Why God? Why do you make laws and then force me to break them? Why can't I just be perfect. I don't want to be gay. I can't be gay. I'm an A+ cheerleader with the quarterback boyfriend.

Be the A+ cheerleader with the Broadway star girlfriend.

She;d never like me. Never.

You're wrong. She cares about everyone.

I need to stop thinking. It's too painful. Out of all the guys in the school, none of them turn me on. None. Only the five foot tall Jewish diva. The obnoxious girl who always thinks she should get what she wants.

I need to calm down. I need to smile. I need to not be gay. I can't be gay. I just can't.


	2. Bathroom

**Introduction:** Not a humourous chapter. That comes next chapter probably. More stream-of-consciousness. Enjoy.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own _Glee_ or any of its characters.

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><p>QUINN FABRAY - RACHEL BERRY<p>

**THE GAY EXPERIMENT**

**CHAPTER TWO: _Bathroom_**

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><p>She's always hanging around him. Like he's <em>her<em> boyfriend. Every time he's at his locker she just magically appears. I don't even get a chance to reach him before she's there – _every _time.

He's oblivious. Not about her: he realizes she likes him, he realizes she runs through the school to see him. He realizes everything – except that it bothers me. But what do I care? I don't like him, not one bit. Not at all. Not even a little.

But I like her.

At least that's what multiple 'AM I GAY' quizzes claim. At least that's what I'm currently believing.

It won't last, these feelings. They'll be gone once I'm out of high school, once I'm out of her life and she's out of mine.

She could talk for I bet. Her brain never stops functioning and her mouth blares on. And sh'es always staring; never blinking. I don't know why he puts up with her. She's a nuisance. He'll glance over and smile before returning his attention to his locker, wishing she would realize how annoying she really is.

"Q," responding to the tap on my shoulder, I find Santana holding a slushie, "do it." That's all she says and instantly some animal instinct overcomes me. I take the weapon in my hands and surge towards the would-be boyfriend snatcher and catapult the cold drink at her.

As she runs off, Finn pulls my arm so I'm facing him. "Why did you do that?" he asks, bewildered.

I smack his hand away.

_How dare he!_ How dare he act as if _I'm_ the monster. How dare he! How dare he look at me like that. How dare he! How dare he grab my arm. How dare he! How dare he look upon me and tell me how horrible I am to her when he didn't even bother to run after he and help her. How dare he! How dare he act as if he was innocent and that I had no heart! _How dare he!_

How many people saw my vicious attack? How many laughs followed? How many heads turned away? How many thought I was a horror? How many, how many?

Who went to help her? Who? No one. No one went and no one said anything to me. No one deserved to be praised.

The sound of cries came from the nearest bathroom. I was the only one who heard them, because I was the only one who went into the bathroom. Anyone who thought she was crying because of the humiliation was wrong. None of them knew anything.

None of them knew she cried because I ruined her one-of-a-kind sweater. One-of-a-kind because she sewed it herself. When she was ten. She sewed it especially for herself so that when she was fifteen, sixteen, she would be able to wear it and know she made it many years ago.

I didn't help her though. I just stood staring.

None of them cared.

None of them would ever.

And when I extended my pale hand to hold her hair back she smacked it away, and I smacked her, and she stared afraid at me. I was a cheerleader, I must have some strength.

"Don't be proud." I held her hair back and smiled at how soft the unaffected parts of it were.

"You enjoy seeing me miserable, don't you?" she asked at my smile.

I can't speak, and I don't want to.

"You're so pretty, Quinn, but you're cruel."

"You're cruel too." I mumble.

She glares at me. "How am I cruel? I don't harass you, nor do I even associate with you."

"You wouldn't understand." I say quietly, no emotion at all.

She looks at me, my face like a statue: unmoving and emotionless. My eyes just observing her. Her eyes run over my face, and it's clear how beautiful she is inside, because she realizes how tortured how I was inside. She saw it on my face. She saw it in my eyes. She heard what my silence didn't need to say.

_You can kiss me if you want to._

_I want to._

My throat tightened. My chest tightened. My heart clenched. My stomach dropped. My legs froze.

_I never meant to hurt anybody. _

_Kiss me._

_I want to._

_Kiss me if you want to._

_I want to._

_I would have tortured you if the roles were reversed._

_I know._

_Come back to practice._

_I know everybody expects us to be enemies and be in competition, but I don't hate you._

_Why not? I've been awful to you._

_That was before you knew what it felt like to be me. An outsider._

_How can you relate._

_I never meant to hurt anybody._

_Kiss me._

_I want to._

_Come back._

_Tortured you._

_I don't hate you._

_I've been awful to you._

_I'm not mad at you. All you did was what I wasn't brave enough to do: tell the truth._

_I have hurt so many people._

_I'm so sorry._

_I was selfish when I told him._

_I'm so sorry._

_Tortured you._

_I know._

_I want to._

_Tortured you._

_An outsider._

_Tell the truth._

_The truth._

_Tell the truth._

_Tell the truth._

_The truth._

I love you.


	3. Rachel

**Introduction:** I'm still on the stream-of-consciousness style, but there's humour in this chapter, just hope you guys can pick up on it. If you have any questions over what happened, review with your questions. I'll get back ASAP.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own _Glee_ or any of its characters.

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><p>QUINN FABRAY - RACHEL BERRY<p>

**THE GAY EXPERIMENT**

**CHAPTER THREE: _Rachel_**

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><p>Rachel left me alone in the bathroom after she finished cleaning herself. But not in the sort of way I make it sound. She didn't like, <em>abandon<em> me. She just kind of had to go, and I didn't ask her to stay.

She's so sweet. Bitter and so sweet. Like a Berry. The universe is taunting me. I know it.

This math homework sucks. Screw it; I'll copy off someone tomorrow. It's so cold . . . I think mom took my blankets to wash.

So what, Fabray? Maybe you're gay. Big deal. As long as you keep it to yourself, you'll be fine.

But what if I don't want to. What if I actually want like . . .

What? A girlfriend?

Stop being ridiculous.

This entire idea is dumb.

This water is cold.

I'm sure the slushie is colder.

Water's warm now, all better.

Don't ignore what you did.

I'm taking a shower, this is my relaxation time. I'll repent later.

Repent for what?

Slushying Rachel.

Rachel?

Berry.

She's Jewish.

So what?

So she's a sinner!

Big deal. You're gay.

I'm not gay!

Look down.

I will not.

Afraid of your own body?

No.

Positive?

I have to get to bed, I can't spend all night standing here.

Rachel probably would.

Why would I care?

She'd stand in the shower all night.

Okay.

Naked.

. . .

She'd stand in the shower, ALL night, naked, water trickling down her tanned body, touching every curve. Running over her breasts, over her butt, down her thighs. She'd touch herself, washing herself. Her hands gently washing herself. Do you think she shaves? She's quite a good singer, I'm sure she keeps herself in excellent shape. She's probably hot. Don't lie, she has great legs. I'm sure you'd like to get the rest of her in your bed.

STOP.

. . .

Stop.

. . .

Oh _God_.

New experience, hm?

Mhm.

You like it?

Mhm.

You're _so_ gay. I'm so gay.

I'm so gay.

For Rachel Berry, of all people.

For Rachel.

Rachel Berry.

Rachel.

Rachel.

"Rachel."

"Rachel."

"Rachel."

"Rachel."

"Rachel."

"Yes, Quinn?"

How did I get here?

"I'm sorry about slushying you yesterday. I was upset that you were talking to Finn and jealous and I took it out in the wrong way."

Rachel stared at me stunned, then cautiously looked around. She nodded and gave me a light smile. "Oh. Well, thank you, Quinn. I appreciate this sudden act of chivalry," she blushed at the word, "Or politeness, rather."

That was totally a Freudian slip. Like, seriously.

"Also, I'm breaking up with Finn, so you'll be in the clear."

Her eyes rewiden. "Why? I hope it isn't because of me. I never wanted to ruin your relationship. I just."

"Rachel. It's not" I stop, realizing it _is_ because of her. "Just, I'm breaking up with him for reasons. That's enough for you to know."

I think I got a little upset there.

Why did I just walk away? That was rude!

Don't you dare cry, Quinn Fabray!

This ponytail is giving me a headache.

You're making a scene. Go to the bathroom or something.

Why the hell am I even in these clothes?

Don't even go there, I swear.

Of course the choir room is empty. How perfect for me. _Everything _is "perfect" for me. My life, my reputation, my family. Just once, maybe if something _wasn't_ "perfect", maybe I'd be Happy?

No, no no no. That's TOO easy. Life isn't easy. You're going to wallow in misery and LOVE it.

I don't love anything.

You love Rachel.

That's an overstatement. I don't love her. I like her. She's pretty and nice.

Have you ever heard her sing? I hear she's very good.

I've seen a couple of her myspace videos, but it was really bad audio quality, and there was background noise and – Rachel.


End file.
